And once again an enormous wave -
And the eyelashes go asleep...
Oh, body nice! My rests as ash,
The lightest bird, as positive!
What was I doing in the mist of days?
I waited and was singing...
Sighs - plenty were in rains,
And body - such a little.
And her dozing was unhuman also,
Though at least - real.
And there was something in her - both
From angel and from eagle.
And she is sleeping, but the choir
Is luring her to the Edem's gardens.
As if by songs the Demon is not quieted,
Fallen asleep for the other time!
.....
Hours, years, centuries. - Nothing,
Either from us, or from our rooms.
And here is the monument, bent down -
Nobody could recall it later, as truth.
The sweep stick is out of use for long,
Also the nettle thickets, flattering.
Lean to the Muse of Tsarskoye Selo,
Where they were grown up in plenty.
3 June 1916
Еще один огромный взмах... - пер. М. Цветаевой
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112100205830
Свидетельство о публикации №112100205830
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